


Let Me Be Your Comfort

by perrosguirec



Category: Le Fantôme de l'Opéra | Phantom of the Opera & Related Fandoms, Le Fantôme de l'Opéra | Phantom of the Opera - Gaston Leroux, The Phantom of the Opera
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Falling In Love, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-25
Updated: 2020-08-25
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:15:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26095477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/perrosguirec/pseuds/perrosguirec
Summary: Christine realizes that she can turn to Erik for comfort and leads Erik to the understanding that he can find comfort in her.
Relationships: Christine Daaé/Erik | Phantom of the Opera
Comments: 3
Kudos: 43





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Heavily Leroux based. Originally published to ff.net on 02-25-2016

Christine crossed the stage, opened her mouth to sing, and fell. The theater fell quiet before some cast-mates came to her aid. She heard some snickers behind her and tried to laugh off the mistake herself.

"Thank goodness it is just rehearsal!" she breathed, keeping her tears at bay. She was incredibly embarrassed and could feel her skin blush.

The cast was called to order by the conductor. "Now then, let's proceed. Miss Daaé, if you can, please begin on cue."

It was a small insult to her, but Christine pushed the thought away. She made her entrance on cue and without falling. The rest of rehearsal went smoothly and once everyone was dismissed, Christine made a hasty retreat. She passed by the pack of ballerinas and heard a snide comment.

"So clumsy. I'm glad she's not one of us!" Little Meg's eyes glittered as she caught Christine's eye. The girls tittered and agreed, sneering at Christine.

Usually, Christine could not be bothered to speak to ballerinas, but her lack of friends to defend her made her stop and turn back to them.

She stared at the girls and balled her hands into fists. She tried to think of something scathing to say but failed to produce any words. This made the girls even more amused and as their laughing filled her ears, Christine quickened her step and fled to the safety of her dressing room.

The tiny room was softly lit and offered her instant comfort. She locked the door behind her sat in front of her dressing table. She took off some of the make-up and costume jewels she had donned for rehearsal and laid her head on the table. A lump had formed in her throat and she couldn't help the tears that fell.

She was not surprised when she heard the soft click and whoosh of her mirror rotating on its hinges, revealing a masked man entering the room. He stood before her, hesitation in his movements. He knelt beside her and laid a tentative hand on her shoulder.

"Do not allow those foolish chits to hurt you. They are nothing compared to your brilliance," he said sternly.

Christine grimaced and raised her head. "How can I just ignore their comments? They are always saying something about me! I fell today and it was all due to me tripping over my own feet! It is their life to stay poised and never to fall! Oh, Erik!"

Impulsively, Christine wrapped her arms around his shoulders and buried her face in his neck. Erik was taken aback and tried to calm his shaking limbs. He slowly gathered Christine closer to him and held her tightly. He murmured comforting words to her and allowed her to cry noisily until the only sounds were her hitched breathing.

"Can we go down to your home, please? I would rather not be alone," she said.

"Of course," he replied, reluctantly releasing her from his arms.

Erik stepped close to the mirror and waited for Christine to turn down the lights before entering the dank cellars of the opera house.


	2. Chapter 2

Christine and Erik were silent as they descended into the deepest cellar of the opera house. Once in Erik's home, Christine sat on the sofa in front of the fireplace while Erik tended to the fire. It roared to life and Erik stood before it, watching the flames dance.

Christine curled around a large pillow in her lap and laid her head on the arm of the sofa. She stared at Erik, a slim figure in black. He turned slightly, aware of her eyes on him, and softly bade her to come stand by him. She did as he asked and was surprised when his arm snaked about her waist, pulling her close. She reveled in the warmth of the fire and his body. She closed her eyes and sank into him, a curious feeling of home washing over her.

When Little Meg and her troop of girls had smirked at her, she had wanted nothing more than someone to come to her rescue and comfort her. She had not expected to find this in Erik, but was pleasantly surprised by his gentleness.

Christine wrapped her arms around Erik and sighed contently. She opened her eyes and glanced at Erik's face. His gaze was fixed on her and its intensity shocked her. Still, she smiled and searched her mind for the right words. She wanted Erik to know how she felt. How perfect this moment was.

Suddenly, Erik took his arm from around her waist and pulled away from her embrace. Christine felt as though the breath had been knocked from her and she staggered backward.

Erik cleared his throat. "The Louis-Philippe room is prepared for you, if you wish to stay here for tonight. It is rather late and you have another rehearsal in the morning. I would advise you to retire now.

Confused, she nodded and began walking to the room. She turned back, just as she had done earlier when trying to confront the ballerinas. She desperately wanted to communicate her feelings to Erik, but she did not know how to. 

Instead, she whispered, "Goodnight."


	3. Chapter 3

The next morning, Erik accompanied Christine back to her dressing room and wished her well for the day's rehearsal. Christine went through the paces in a daze, hardly remembering the correct blocking and her cues. She could not wrap her mind around Erik's behavior.

Rehearsal ended without incident and for once, Christine did ignore the ballet girls, brushing past them on her way to her dressing room. She stood in front of the mirror, staring first at her reflection – large blue eyes, pale skin, and blonde curls – then tried to determine if Erik was behind it.

"Erik, please come out. I'd like to see you," she softly bid.

The mirror swung open and revealed Erik, his large black mask obscuring the details of his face. He did not speak, but took her hand and led her back down to his home. Again, they said little until they reached Erik's home. Once inside, Christine began to speak, but Erik cut her off.

"Please, excuse me for last night's behavior. It was inappropriate," he said.

Christine shook her head and stepped closer to him. "No. Erik, I did not feel it inappropriate. I welcomed it."

Erik's eyes grew wide and he stumbled over his words. "I… I am relieved. I only meant to calm you. I am glad for the effect it had."

She gave him a shy smile and tried again to explain how she felt but was lost on how to begin.

"What is it? There is something on your mind," he coaxed.

"Yes," she said, glancing at the floor, "I don't think you understand how I felt. How I feel. Erik, you've been a great comfort to me. You are a tutor and friend. Last night… I, I want to feel that way again. With you."

She met his eyes and waited for him to respond. But he stood silent, searching her face. She knew his mask, his face, was what made him nervous. After the way she had reacted to it, she knew he harbored resentment toward her. But she wanted to believe they were past the unpleasant feelings the memory evoked.

He turned away and sighed. "Oh, Christine."

Afraid that he would reject her, Christine swallowed her burgeoning tears took his hand in her own.

"Erik, please forgive me for how poorly I reacted to your face. I do not hate the sight of it, as you believe I do. I hate the sight of your mask. I want to know what you feel and see it written plainly on your face. I care for you. Please," she entreated.

Erik gripped her hand hard and faced her, tears of his own thickening his voice. "You are already forgiven."

Christine squeezed his hand in return. "May I see your face?"

She felt him stiffen and saw his fear in his eyes. Yet, he did not refuse. Erik let go of her hand and untied his mask. He quickly shut his eyes, hardly breathing. Christine inhaled deeply; her memory did not do his face justice. But she did not scream or shy away. Instead, she reached up and ran her fingers over his brow, brushed away the tears from his deep-set eyes, and passed a hand over the spot where his nose should have been.

Erik opened his eyes and let a sob escape him before sinking to his knees. Christine knelt with him and held him close, crying with him.

"I love you," he said between gulps of air, speaking into her curls.

Christine was so overwhelmed she laughed, "I love you, too!"

She kissed him on the cheek and continued to hold him, relief flooding her.

Hours later they had finally calmed down and seated themselves on the sofa in front of the fire. Erik had returned to mask to his face, with the promise that it would not be a regular occurrence, and Christine sat close to him with her head on his shoulder. She did not know what the future would bring them, but she did know that would be each other's comfort in the days to come.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on my Phantom of the Opera tumblr: @perrosguirec


End file.
